The Kill Zone

by Chris Ryan

  The reception of the Trust Hotel was a place of faded grandeur, but compared to the rest of the city, it was five star. A man sat at a wide wooden desk with an old computer and a telephone; behind him was a wide set of glass doors, and beyond that a swimming pool, entirely devoid of water. Jack strode straight up to the man.

  ‘I need a room,’ he said.

  The man was wearing a Western-style suit with no tie. He gave Jack a smile. Half his teeth were missing, and Jack noticed a nasty scar going from his jaw down his neck.

  Checking in was slow. Jack refused to leave his passport, but the guy didn’t seem to care, just so long as he saw the colour of his money, fifty bucks for the night. Once the receptionist had handed over the key, Jack looked all around him, then leaned over the desk and gave the guy his most winning smile.

  ‘And now, my friend,’ he said, ‘I need a woman.’

  The receptionist’s toothless smile grew broader, bringing with it a cloud of halitosis that Jack ignored.

  ‘Any white women staying here?’

  The receptionist let out an unpleasant little giggle. ‘You want white women?’ he asked. ‘I know a place. Not far from here. Very nice. Very young. They do everything you want, if you have . . .’ He rubbed his fingers together to indicate cash.

  Lily’s face rose unbidden in his mind. Jack had to try very hard not to grab the guy by his throat. ‘What about here?’ he pressed. ‘I don’t want to leave. Are there any white women in the hotel?’

  ‘Yes, boss,’ he said. ‘Maybe.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘A guest.’

  ‘What does she look like?’ Jack asked.

  The receptionist giggled again. ‘Blonde hair,’ he said. ‘Like in the movies. Very nice.’

  Jack laughed with him and nodded enthusiastically, then presented him with another note, which he slid into the top pocket of his jacket.

  ‘What room number?’ he whispered.

  The receptionist glanced down at his pocket, then gave Jack a meaningful look, so he stuffed another note in the jacket.

  ‘Room three,’ said the receptionist. ‘That way. Very pretty, boss. You have nice time.’

  He was still giggling to himself as Jack walked away.

  Room 3.

  The wooden door was scuffed and ill-fitting. Jack stood in the windowless corridor, breathing in the faintly antiseptic smell and listening for the sound of movement in the room. The pendant lights gave an electric flicker.

  No sound.

  He knocked on the door.

  Footsteps.

  He knocked again.

  ‘Who is it?’

  Siobhan’s voice was wary. It was also very close.

  ‘Open up, Siobhan.’

  Even through the door he heard her sharp intake of breath.

  A pause.

  ‘Don’t make me break it down,’ Jack warned.

  The door clicked open.

  Siobhan had darkened her skin. She still looked exhausted. Black rings round her eyes, her hair matted and unkempt, her lips pale. She jutted out her chin at him, a strangely childlike gesture of defiance, but didn’t say anything.

  ‘I could have sworn,’ Jack said, ‘that last time we spoke you promised you weren’t going to do anything stupid.’

  She sniffed. ‘I don’t need your help, Jack.’

  ‘Siobhan, let me in.’

  She looked like she was considering it for a moment. Formulating a response. But after a second she just stepped aside. Jack entered the room and closed the door. There was a wooden wedge on the floor by his feet, which he jammed under the door. Wouldn’t stop people from entering, but it would give him a few extra seconds if they tried.

  Siobhan’s room was basic. Just a bed with thin blankets and a sliding door leading to a bathroom of sorts. A circular fan hung from the ceiling, but it was either switched off or didn’t work – the room was uncomfortably hot. Strewn on the bed were a set of black robes and a Makarov 9 mm, and by its side was a small case.

  ‘How did you find me?’ Siobhan asked.

  ‘You’re not the only person who can track people down, Siobhan. What the hell do you think you’re playing at?’

  Her lips thinned. ‘I’m not playing at anything, Jack.’

  He looked at the Makarov. ‘Had to use it yet?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘So you still got eight nine-millimetre rounds. Great. How do you reckon you’re going to deal with the other few thousand of these fuckers who’ll rape you and kill you the moment they see your white skin? This is Africa, you know, not Antrim.’

  ‘I got this far, didn’t I?’

  ‘Congratulations. Now pack your bag. We’re getting out of here.’

  Siobhan shook her head. ‘No,’ she replied.

  ‘I’m not fucking around, Siobhan. We’re leav—’

  ‘He’s here, Jack. Khan’s here.’ Her eyes were ablaze.

  ‘Good for him. I hope he has a great holiday. We’re leaving.’ He grabbed her by the arm and pushed her towards the bed; Siobhan used her free hand to swipe him a stinging blow across the face. Jack had to fight the urge to reciprocate.

  They exchanged stares, both as determined as each other.

  ‘Where is he?’ Jack finally burst out. ‘I’ll put his bollocks in a vice, then we can leave.’

  Siobhan shook her head. ‘He’s surrounded by muscle. You won’t get close.’ She took a deep breath, then spoke slowly, as if she was trying to keep her emotions under control. ‘Khan’s waiting for someone. A woman. They arrive this afternoon and tonight, after dark, they’re travelling somewhere. I don’t know where, but they have their own security. I’m going to follow them.’

  ‘How?’ Jack couldn’t help himself from sounding sarcastic. ‘You going to hitch a lift? Jesus, Siobhan, you’ve already seen what this place is like.’

  ‘I’m not leaving, Jack. What if Khan leads us straight to Lily?’

  ‘Lily’s not here, Siobhan.’

  ‘You don’t know that. I’m not leaving this place till I’ve found out what he’s up to.’

  ‘Wrong.’

  ‘Right.’

  Jack shook his head. Then he bent down and pulled the snub-nose from round his ankle. ‘Wrong,’ he repeated.

  Siobhan gave him a scornful look. ‘You didn’t come this far to shoot me, Jack. Put it away.’

  She was right, of course. Jack lowered the gun.

  It all seemed too surreal, some kind of terrible dream.

  ‘Siobhan, please . . .’

  ‘I’m not leaving, Jack.’ She gave him a direct look. ‘You either stay with me, or you go home by yourself. Final answer.’

  Damn it. Jack felt like exploding. Anyone else, he’d just remove them by force, shove them in Asad’s truck and bundle them back out to the airfield. Why couldn’t he do this with Siobhan? Why did she always manage to win their battles?

  He heard himself speaking, almost as if someone else was in control of his voice, saying things he didn’t want to say. Giving ground he didn’t want to give. ‘You still haven’t told me how you’re going to follow him.’

  Siobhan gave him a sharp look, then opened the suitcase on to the bed. She pulled out a small object, no bigger than a fifty-pence piece. ‘Tracking device,’ she said. ‘I’m going to plant it on him. Follow at a distance.’

  ‘You got a vehicle?’

  ‘Not yet,’ she said. ‘The hotel can supply security. I’ll get them to hire something.’ Siobhan’s face was hard. Intractable. Jack could tell nothing would stop her from going through with it. The thought of her heading out of the hotel alone made him feel sick. He turned and stared at the door, his brow furrowed, before suddenly facing her again.

  ‘All right,’ he heard himself saying. ‘I’ll make you a deal. We follow Khan, you and me. I’ve got an aircraft waiting till midnight at an airfield two miles to the west of the city. If we’re late, it leaves. If I come with you this evening, you’ve got to swear that you’ll be on that plane with me.’

 
; Siobhan narrowed her eyes. He could almost see her mind churning over.

  ‘OK,’ she said shortly. ‘Deal.’ There was the faint light of triumph in her face.

  Jack picked up the tracking device and held it between his first finger and his thumb. ‘There’s no point putting this on Khan,’ he said. ‘You plant it on him now –’

  ‘He changes his clothes half an hour later. Thanks for the lesson, Jack, but I’m not a Girl Guide. We need to get it on his vehicle.’

  ‘Any ideas how you’re going to do that?’

  ‘A few. Leave it to me.’

  Jack nodded. That was her area of expertise. ‘You reckon he’s not leaving till after dark?’

  ‘That’s what I heard him say.’

  ‘Then we stay here till dusk. I’ve got a local kid looking after my vehicle. When the sun goes down, we’ll move out to the Land Rover. As soon as he leaves we’ll start tailing him.’

  He turned his attention from the tracking device back to Siobhan. ‘You got a GPS display?’ She nodded her head and pulled a satnav-type box from her case. Jack nodded. It wouldn’t work indoors, but once they were in the open the unit should give them a satellite fix on the tracker. ‘That your only weapon?’ he asked, pointing at the Makarov.

  Siobhan nodded.

  ‘Well keep it close.’ He walked over to the other side of the room and pulled the frayed curtains closed. Then he took off his jacket and started unbuttoning his shirt.

  ‘Jack, what are you doing?’

  He didn’t answer. He just peeled off his shirt to reveal the knife dangling down his back and his body armour, which he removed and handed to Siobhan.

  ‘Put it on,’ he said.

  ‘Jack, I don’t need—’

  ‘Put it on!’

  Siobhan bowed her head and picked up the waistcoat before walking with it to the other side of the bed. She turned her back to him, then removed her own jacket and white T-shirt. Jack couldn’t stop himself looking at the thin straps of her bra pressing into the pale flesh of her back; couldn’t stop himself taking in the familiar slant of her shoulders. She still looked good. Siobhan glanced back at him. It was only momentary, though. She pulled the heavy body armour over her head – it looked massive on her – then tied it at the sides and got dressed again. She gave Jack’s bare chest an arch look. ‘You trying to win me back?’ she asked.

  Jack didn’t reply. The question made him uncomfortable and as he got dressed again, he couldn’t shake a creeping sense of anxiety.

  He knew this was stupid.

  He knew they were asking for trouble.

  He knew they were unprepared. Underplanned.

  But he also knew Siobhan. Knew how fucking headstrong she was. He couldn’t see what other option he had.

  ‘I’m doing this for Lily, Jack,’ she said in a quiet voice.

  ‘I know,’ he replied. ‘But there are better ways to help her.’

  ‘I have this image,’ she said. ‘I can’t get rid of it. Her in some kind of, I don’t know, brothel. Men like Khan doing things to her.’

  Jack put one finger over her lips.

  ‘If we do find her,’ Siobhan said, her voice on the brink of tears, ‘we make it up to her, right?’

  ‘Right.’

  They bunked down and waited for the sun to set.

  18

  18.00 hrs.

  It grew dark.

  They’d known the sun was setting not only because of the darkness, but because of the sound of gunshots as the city around came to life. Or death. Explosions. Artillery. Fuck, Jack thought. It was like Helmand. Only in Helmand they had assets. Out here they had nothing.

  ‘We need to go,’ he said. ‘Get ready.’

  ‘I’m not going to wear my robes,’ Siobhan told him. ‘They’re too heavy. They’ll slow me down if it kicks off.’

  Jack nodded and they started collecting their things. He checked his bag: grenades, ammo, Claymore, det cord, PE – everything was there. When they were ready, he stood in front of her and put his hands on her shoulders. ‘Seriously, Siobhan,’ he said. ‘When we get out there, keep your head down and do what I say. I know you’re good, but you’re not trained for this kind of theatre. Agreed?’

  ‘Agreed,’ she said, before giving him a thin smile.

  Outside the room, they strode side by side down the corridor to reception. The toothless receptionist was still at his desk. He leered at Jack, who smiled back and gave him a discreet thumbs-up sign. The man’s eyes sparkled. When he saw they were heading for the exit, though, his face fell. ‘Where you go?’ he called, alarmed.

  They just kept walking towards the door. ‘What was he so happy about?’ Siobhan asked. Jack said nothing.

  In the courtyard, the stench of the city hit them. Now that night was falling, the guards had moved themselves away from the gate and were standing in the protection of the wall. Jack walked up to them.

  ‘Let us out,’ he instructed.

  The guards looked uneasy, but did as they were told. The moment Jack and Siobhan were on the street, however, they quickly locked the gates again.

  The dusty green Land Rover was still parked up opposite the hotel. They hurried towards it. Asad sat in the driver’s seat, his shades up on his forehead. The kid looked nervous, with a slightly wild look in his eyes.

  ‘It is not safe to stay here after dark,’ he hissed, and as if to reinforce his statement, there was an explosion nearby that caused a little shower of dust to fall from the bombed-out building next to them.

  ‘Asad,’ Jack said, ‘I need to borrow your truck. Just till morning.’

  Asad looked uncertain.

  ‘I’ll be back here at nine o’clock in the morning,’ Jack lied. ‘For you, two hundred dollars. Easy money.’

  He handed over the notes. The battle between cash and suspicion was written on the kid’s face. Cash won. Two hundred bucks was probably more than the vehicle was worth anyway. ‘Nine o’clock?’ he said.

  Jack nodded. ‘Don’t be late.’ He watched as the kid climbed down from the Land Rover and disappeared down the street.

  Jack turned to Siobhan.

  ‘Get into the back seat,’ he instructed. ‘Lie down and keep your gun ready. People are more likely to come at us if they see a woman. You see a face that isn’t mine, shoot it.’

  Siobhan did as she was told.

  Jack took the driver’s seat. He drove slowly down the road, along the thick wall of the hotel on one side and the bombed-out remains on the other. After about thirty metres he stopped. He seized the Colt Commando in his right hand and the M1911 in the other before twisting his body round so that he could see the road behind him.

  They waited.

  The street was quiet. They were quiet. But just a few streets away the city was noisy. Bursts of gunshot; rumbles of explosive; indistinct metallic screeches; shouting. They’d only been there for ten minutes when a gang of fifteen people, some of them grown men, some of them little more than kids, approached. They were more heavily armed than the fucking Taliban – AKs, mostly, but one guy had an RPG launcher nonchalantly plonked on his shoulder. Jack was pleased that they were arguing among themselves because it meant they didn’t notice him.

  Half an hour passed. It grew fully dark. Jack’s arms ached from holding the guns up and he was growing impatient. ‘Where the fuck are they . . .’

  ‘They’ll come,’ Siobhan said.

  Two minutes later a vehicle turned into the top of the street. For now, Jack could see only the two headlamps, glowing in the darkness. They grew nearer, before coming to a stop outside the hotel gates. The headlamps dimmed to reveal the outline of the vehicle. It was a technical – an open-topped truck with a machine gun of some description mounted on the back. Jack could trace the outline of the gunner and could make out the heads of the other occupants – four, maybe five.

  He watched carefully. Nobody got out. This truck wasn’t dropping off. It was picking up. And from what he’d learned of Mogadishu, he realised t
hat there weren’t many people who’d be leaving this hotel after dark.

  ‘They’re here,’ Jack said, his voice low. He heard Siobhan sitting up. ‘You sure you know what you’re doing?’

  ‘I told you,’ Siobhan said. ‘Leave it to me. Just keep me covered.’ She opened the door, stepped out into the street and started walking back to where the open-topped truck was parked, the tracking device secreted in the palm of her left hand.

  Siobhan kept her head down as she approached the truck. The last thing she wanted to do was attract the attention of the six heavily armed Somalis in the technical. She was about ten metres away when the hotel gates opened and two figures appeared. One of them was Khan. He was dressed, as before, in a dishdasha, and he strode purposefully towards the technical. The second figure was clearly a woman. She wore loose robes that covered all her skin, and her head was wrapped in a headdress. She walked a little slower than Khan, with her head bowed. Then Khan barked an instruction at her, and she climbed up into the technical.

  ‘Mr Khan!’ Siobhan shouted. She was no more than five metres away from him now.

  Khan looked round, alarmed, just as two of the men on the technical raised their rifles. When he saw it was Siobhan, a brief look of irritation crossed Khan’s face, but he soon mastered it and raised his hand at the guards, who lowered their guns.

  ‘Miss Hoskins . . .’

  ‘Mr Khan, you said I could have an interview.’

  ‘Now is not a good time, Miss Hoskins.’

  She was right by the technical now. ‘Perhaps I could come with you.’ She gave him a dizzy smile.

  Khan’s face darkened.

  ‘A photo, then.’ She pulled her digital camera from her pocket. Khan immediately held up his hand to prevent her taking his picture. Siobhan shoved the camera into his fist. ‘Then you take one of me. The papers will love it . . . very atmospheric . . .’ She widened her eyes. ‘All these guns!’

  She had her back to the technical, leaning up against it with one hand behind her. It took only a second for her to attach the tiny magnetic device to the chassis of the vehicle. A good job too, because Khan was angry now. He threw the camera to the floor. ‘Get away,’ he whispered, a dangerous look in his eyes.